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Date Written: September 14, 2017


On most Thursday nights, we played a game.

Each Thursday evening, the rockets came.


Friday, the Holy day, a time to pray.

But for some, a day to collect their pay.


Proof of attack, proof of death they sought.

Pictures and videos to temple they brought.


One Thursday night the rockets killed three.

To this day, I wonder why it wasn’t me.


We offered them money for rockets and bombs, bring them to me.

We’ll give you more money and then set you free.


But the claxons still rang on each Thursday night.

To the bunkers we ran, we hid, out of sight.


We were losing this game, we had to do more.

To think of a way that might even the score.


We sent out patrols, we went outside the wire.

We found all their caches and we set them on fire.


The next Thursday night, the rockets were back.

And each Thursday night, another attack.


One Wednesday night, a man at the gate.

He had a bomb and was tempting his fate.


He didn’t want death, he did not want to kill.

He gave us this bomb as a sign of goodwill.


We took in his bomb and we took it apart.

Our fingers so nimble, our minds so smart.


We recognized the style, and what was inside.

We rang up the Seals, let's go for a ride.


The bomb makers thought they had nothing to fear.

Right up until they met the pointy end of the spear.


Dedicated to the men and women of Counter IED Joint Task Force Troy, Weapons Intelligence Team – Detachment Bravo, the U.S. Navy Seals & EOD and especially the three U.S. Army Soldiers killed on July 16, 2009 at Forward Operating Base Basra, Basra Iraq. SPC D. Drevnik, SPC C. Wilcox & SPC J. Wertish. RIP.

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